"'Morning, kids," Gaston said at the breakfast table as they took their places. He glanced around. "Where's Georges?"

Alain shrugged and poured himself some milk. "I thought I heard him go out early this morning."

"He's not going to school today," Belle said, putting a platter of pancakes on the table and sitting down. "He said he needed some time alone to think about things."

"You're letting him miss school?" Gaston said in surprise.

"Yes. He was very upset after killing that deer yesterday."

Gaston sighed and shook his head disapprovingly. "Belle, I know you mean well, but really, you coddle him too much! The last thing that boy needs is more brooding and moping around! He needs to just man up and get on with things." Gaston just could not understand this constant need to think about everything all the time! When HE had a problem, he took action and did something about it.

Belle put down her fork in exasperation. "Look, Gaston," she said, trying hard to keep her voice calm. Mindful of what Georges had said the night before, she didn't want to get into a fight in front of the children. "First of all, you let him miss school yesterday to go hunting, so you have no right to complain about that! Secondly, he did what you wanted: he killed a deer just to make you happy. But it was very upsetting to him, and he needs some time to deal with that. So just leave him alone and give him the time he needs."

"Oh, all right, fine," Gaston said grudgingly. "But it was all for his own good. He'll thank me one day, mark my words!"

Belle sighed. "I honestly hope you're right," she said, and meant it. Above all she just wanted Georges to be happy – that was more important than winning an argument.

Gaston drank his tea, glad she wasn't arguing. "Well…maybe it IS good for him to have this day to mull it over," he offered as an olive branch. "It'll give him a chance to put yesterday in perspective and realize that he accomplished something great, and he was silly to be upset."

Mimi looked up at that last comment, curious to see if her mother would scold her father for calling Georges "silly," but Belle just stood and cleared the empty dishes away without comment. "Come on, girls, time for school," was all she said. "Alain, have a good day at work." She kissed Gaston goodbye and herded the girls out the door to school.

But her day went downhill from there. At recess, Luc bullied little Denis, who was only 7, and pushed him in the mud, tearing his shirt. That meant Belle had to not only scold Luc and punish him by taking away his recess privileges for the next week, and clean up and comfort Denis, but then she had to explain and apologize to Amelie at the end of the day when she came to pick up Denis, and confront Mme. Grognon about her son's unacceptable insistence on bullying children half his size. Of course, Mme. Grognon refused to see anything wrong in Luc's behavior, insisting that "boys will be boys", although Belle knew she'd be the first to complain if anyone bullied HER precious child.

Amelie, meanwhile, assured Belle that she understood and that she knew Belle did her best. But Belle could see she was upset, and who could blame her? Denis was such a sweet boy, and it hurt Belle just as much as Amelie that he had been picked on. She felt guilty and responsible that it had taken her so long to realize what was happening and intervene.

Finally the parental discussions were over and Belle headed home to make dinner, feeling unhappy about how the day had gone. She could only hope that missing recess for the next week would make an impression on Luc, despite Mme. Grognon's undermining of her authority.

"Don't worry, Mama," Mimi told her reassuringly. "I'll stick by Denis at recess from now on. If Luc even comes NEAR him, I'll make him regret it!"

Lili, who had been feeling sad that someone was mean to her best friend, cheered up. "Thanks, Mimi! That would be great!"

Belle had to smile. "That's kind of you, Mimi. I don't want you getting into fights or using your fists...but I admit, Luc probably would think twice about bothering Denis if he saw you standing nearby keeping an eye on him!"

Mimi puffed out her chest with pride. "That's what I'll do. I'll be the protector of all the little kids, like a white knight! No one will bother them ever again!"

Belle hugged Mimi. "I'm very proud of you for wanting to look after people who are weaker than you," she said. "Just like a real hero! Your father will be proud too." Mimi might be reckless and impulsive, but she's no bully, Belle thought fondly. And she has a good heart. She's going to turn out to be a fine young woman, no matter what anyone says.

Feeling a bit more cheerful, she entered the house. As she chopped vegetables for dinner, it occurred to her that with all the commotion about Luc, she hadn't even had a chance to go to the bookstore as she'd planned. And I had said I'd meet Georges there if he came, or bring him home a book if he didn't, she remembered. I hope he won't be too disappointed! But we can both go together tomorrow after school.

Alain entered the house as she was cooking. "Mmm, that smells good, Ma!" he said.

Belle smiled. "It'll be ready in a minute. How was work?"

"Busy!" Alain said, removing his coat and hanging it in the closet. "We had four customers come in needing guns repaired, and they all want them by the end of the week! But Monsieur Armurier says he'll pay me extra if we have to stay late on Thursday to get them all done."

"Oh, good! I'm glad business is doing so well!" Belle said. "Now go wash up for dinner."

Gaston came in from hunting. Having forgotten the morning's quarrel, he picked Belle up playfully and kissed her affectionately. His hunting had gone well and he was in a jovial mood. Belle laughed and kissed him back, glad he'd had a good day. "Dinner is almost ready," she told him.

He opened the oven door and peeked inside. "Roast venison, great!" he said enthusiastically. "Is that from the deer Georges killed?"

"Oh...I don't know. I suppose so," Belle said, her smile fading as she remembered how upset Georges had been about the deer. "I just got it from the storehouse."

"It must be his deer," Gaston said. "We were almost out of venison before that." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the meal – venison was his favorite. "When he sees what a delicious dinner his kill turned into, I bet he changes his tune about hunting!"

One thing you could say about Gaston, Belle thought – he was unfailingly optimistic that things would always go his way.

Still, while she doubted he was right, she too hoped that Georges would come home feeling better than he had the night before.

"Mimi! Lili!" she called. "Come down for dinner!" She turned to Gaston, who was pulling his chair out to sit down at the table. "You'll be proud of Mimi," she told him with a smile. "She's decided that from now on, she's going to be the official guardian of all the smaller children at school and protect them from bullies!"

Gaston grinned. As Mimi ran into the room and climbed into her chair next to him, with Lili trailing after her, he ruffled her hair. "So, wildcat...I hear you're going to be the school hero now, hmm?"

Mimi beamed. "That's right!" she said proudly. "No one will bother the little kids as long as I'M around!"

"That's my girl!" Gaston said approvingly. "Hero to the weak and defender of the innocent! Just like in your mama's stories."

Belle began setting the platters of food on the table. "I wonder where Georges is?" she said. "It's not like him to be late for dinner." She looked worriedly at the door. "I'd better go find him. Maybe he lost track of the time."

"I'll go with you," Gaston said, pushing back his chair. "You kids can start eating. We'll be back soon."

"It's all right – you stay and eat before the food gets cold," Belle said to Gaston. She wanted the chance to talk to Georges alone first to see if he was still upset or needed to talk. "I'm sure he's just at the lake, it won't take long to fetch him."

But Gaston shook his head and put on his coat. "The sun's going down. I don't like you being out in the dark by yourself," he said protectively.

"All right," Belle said. I'll talk to Georges after dinner, she decided.

As they headed through the village toward the lake, Belle pulled her coat closer around herself. "It's starting to get chilly."

Gaston nodded and sped up his pace. "Let's get him and go home fast."

As they arrived at the lake, Belle called, "Georges?" But there was no answer. She hurried over to Georges' special spot: the little grassy hill under the shade of a tree, where he loved to sit looking over the water, thinking and daydreaming and writing poetry. But he wasn't there.

Gaston looked around impatiently. "Georges! Come on! It's time for dinner!"

Silence.

"Where can be be?" Belle wondered. They searched the area thoroughly, and the surrounding woods and fields, but there was no sign of him.

"He didn't say he was going to friend's house for dinner, did he?" Gaston suggested. "Maybe he told you and you forgot?"

Belle shook her head decisively. "No, I would have remembered that. He said he just needed some time today to think about things. Nothing about staying out late. And Georges is always so considerate – he wouldn't want me to worry." She was getting concerned.

"Well, in that case he probably came home while we were out looking," Gaston said. "Let's go back to the house – he's probably there wondering where we are!"

They hurried home and entered the house. The other three children were in the middle of eating. "Did Georges come home?" Belle asked them anxiously.

"No," Alain said, looking up at her from the table. "Didn't you find him?"

Belle bit her lip. "He must have stopped by a friend's house, or maybe the bookstore," she said, not wanting the other children to worry. "We'll find him. Come on, Gaston."

Outside, she turned to her husband. "Where can he be? Now I AM getting worried!"

Gaston frowned in concern, trying to think. "Georges is smart, he knows not to go deep in the woods without me... and he wouldn't have tried to go swimming, not when it's so chilly out..."

"Belle!" a voice called. They looked up to see the bookseller approaching.

"Monsieur Liseur!" Belle said hopefully. "Have you seen Georges?"

"Georges? No," Monsieur Liseur said. "I just came by to give you this. I found it under the door of the shop." He handed her the letter.

"Oh," Belle said, glancing at the sealed note. It was probably from the parent of one of her students – most likely an angry harangue from Mme. Grognon about Luc being punished. "Thank you, Monsieur Liseur."

"You're welcome," the bookseller replied. "Is everything all right? You look upset. You said something about Georges?"

Gaston spoke up. "He's late getting home for dinner, that's all. Probably lost track of the time. You know how boys are."

"Oh, I see. Well, if I see him, I'll tell him to hurry home," Monsieur Liseur said.

They thanked him, and he left. Belle absently opened the note, but her mind was on her missing son. She glanced at the note. Then her eyes widened in shock. "Oh, no!"

"What is it?" Gaston asked.

She looked up at him fearfully. "It's from Georges. He's run away from home!"

"What?" Gaston said, shocked. "Why?"

She scanned the letter quickly. "He's upset that you forced him to go hunting, and that you don't want him to write poetry," she said, a bit accusingly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! That's why he didn't come home?" Gaston said, exasperated. Boys went hunting with their fathers every day...why was this such a big problem for Georges? But Gaston's annoyance at his son's overreaction was tempered by vast relief that the reason for his absence wasn't more serious. His son was safe – that was the most important thing.

As always, his first instinct was to take action. "All right, look. At least now we know WHY he's missing," he said decisively. "He wasn't in an accident, he's not hurt or injured or lost...he's just a 12-year-old boy who got mad at his father and thought, 'Well, I'll show him! I'll run away! THEN they'll all be sorry!'" Gaston had to smile at that thought. Now that he thought about it, it really was such a typical thing for a kid to do...although out of all his children, he never would have dreamed that shy Georges would be the one to do it! "It's pretty normal."

"How can you be so calm?" Belle demanded. "Our son is out there, alone, in the dark-"

"I know. But think about it – where could he go?" Gaston pointed out. "This village is pretty small. There aren't that many places he could be! So, you go ask at all his friends' houses, and I'll look in all the barns and haylofts in the village – he might be hiding there without the owners knowing it. We'll meet back here in half an hour. We'll find him in no time, don't worry."

Belle was comforted by Gaston's certainty. He was right, of course. "All right. But Gaston, when we find him, don't yell at him!" she warned. "Maybe it was childish of him to run away, but he did it because he was upset and he feels that you don't listen to him. So you need to be more understanding."

"All right, fine," Gaston said dismissively, his mind already on places to search. "We can worry about that later. Right now, let's just find him and get him home safely."

Gaston's assurances made Belle feel better, but as she went from one friend's house to another, only to hear that they hadn't seen Georges all day, she began to worry again. She hoped Gaston had had better luck finding him.

But as she hurried toward their meeting spot, she saw that he was alone. "You didn't find him?" she asked him, her heart sinking.

He shook his head. "You neither?" He was starting to look just as worried as she was. "I checked every barn and hayloft and treehouse in the village. I searched all the fields and trees...I even went deeper into the woods, where he know she's never ever to go without me. There's no sign of him." Frustrated, he slammed his fist against a tree and burst out, "When we DO find him, I'll skin him alive for scaring us like this!"

"But where is he?" Belle wailed. The thought of her son out there somewhere, all alone in the dark, terrified her. How desperate he must have felt, to believe his only choice was to run away...Full of anxiety, she turned on Gaston. "This is all your fault!"

"ME?" Gaston said in outrage.

"Yes, you!" Belle persisted. "You and your stupid obsession with hunting! I told you that he didn't want to hunt, but you just had to keep forcing him! And you told him he couldn't read or write poetry anymore – you DROVE him away!"

"I was trying to help him!" Gaston snapped defensively. "Every man needs to know how to hunt; it's a basic life skill! Every father in this village teaches their boy to hunt, and none of them get upset about it – in fact, all the boys look forward to it. Except MY son! Why do you think that is?" he demanded, lashing out in return. "Maybe because he has a mother who made him read poetry and coddled him and made him be 'sensitive'!"

"I didn't make him be anything!" Belle retorted, stung. "I just accepted him for who he is! Which is what YOU should have done! Then he wouldn't have felt that he had to run away!"

Gaston shook his head. "This isn't getting us anywhere," he snarled. "We're wasting time. Right now the most important thing is to FIND him. So, think! You're supposed to be the one who's good at thinking!" he added cuttingly.

He took a deep breath and tried to lay it out logically. "Georges was mad and ran away from home. But this village isn't that big – he has to be somewhere. We know he didn't go to any of his friends' houses. He's not in a treehouse, or the fields, or the woods, or in anyone's barn. But it's cold out. He'd need to find someplace warm to stay for the night, someplace that's safe..."

Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Oh! I've got it! He must have gone to your father's!"

Belle felt almost weak with relief. "My father! Of course! Why didn't we think of that sooner?"

"I know!" Gaston said. "A kid is mad at his parents, the first place he's going to go is Grandpa's!" Equally overcome with relief, he laughed and shook his head. "Some great hunter and tracker I turned out to be! Talk about missing the obvious!"

Belle laughed too. "Well, as you said, I'm supposed to be the great thinker! And it's MY father – I should have thought of that right from the start!" She pictured Georges sitting at her father's table, eating a snack while pouring out his troubles to his beloved Grandpa. Her father was no doubt listening sympathetically, offering unconditional love and wise advice. "Papa is probably telling him right now that running away doesn't solve anything, and that he needs to go home and talk to us."

Gaston nodded. "You're right, but I'm not waiting for your father to convince him! I'm getting him right now!"

Belle agreed, and they started for Maurice's house, which lay over a bridge on the far outskirts of the village.

Eager to reclaim their son, they walked hurriedly, but silently at first, both thinking over the evening's events. Belle glanced over at her husband. Now that they'd finally figured out where Georges was, she felt guilty about her outburst. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she told Gaston apologetically. "I shouldn't have blamed you. I know you're just trying to be a good father to Georges. I was just frightened, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

Gaston waved away her apology dismissively. "It's all right. I've been thinking, maybe you're right. Maybe I have been pushing him too hard. He did just shoot a deer, which was a huge step forward for him – but before he had a chance to even get used to the idea, I immediately wanted him to do it again! It was probably too much pressure on him. Once we find him, I'll back off about the hunting for a while."

Belle was relieved. "I'm glad. I think that will help." Of course she would rather he give up the idea of Georges hunting entirely, but at least it was a start.

Gaston nodded. He was thinking, Georges does take after his mother, after all, and Belle NEVER reacted well to being forced to do anything. I'll back off for a month or twoI'll let him know how proud I am that he overcame his fear and shot that buck, but without expecting him to shoot another one right away. That way he can enjoy the triumph without any pressure. Once he gets used to the idea that he really did it and it's not so bad after all, he'll come around on his own, wanting to get all that praise again. Gaston himself LIVED for praise – he couldn't get enough of it – so it was easy for him to imagine that Georges would want more too. It would all work out; he just needed to be more patient.

They had arrived at the bridge, and as they crossed it, they quickened their pace until they were almost running by the time they got to Maurice's house. "Papa!" Belle called, knocking on the door.

As soon as Maurice opened it, she said eagerly, "Is Georges here?" She couldn't wait to enfold her son in her arms and hug him as though she'd never let go!

But to her dismay, Maurice frowned in confusion and shook his head. "Georges? No, he's not here. Isn't he at home?"

Belle's face fell. She stared at her father, fear gripping her heart. "He's...he's not here? Are you sure?"

Gaston said, "Maybe he's hiding." He went into the house, calling "Georges! Where are you? Stop hiding and come out!" He had been so certain Georges would be here, he couldn't quite believe he wasn't.

Maurice turned to follow Gaston into the house. "What's going on?"

Belle sank into a chair in despair. "Georges ran away from home. We've been searching everywhere...we were sure he'd be here..."

Gaston turned back to Belle, looking grim. This situation was now deadly serious. He sat down in an armchair and leaned forward. "Belle, read me that note," he said. "Maybe there's a clue in there that will help us figure out where he went."

Belle opened the note and began to read aloud:

"Dear Mama, Papa, Alain, Mimi and Lili,

By the time you get this I will be gone. I am leaving home. Please don't worry about me, and don't try to find me. I know you will be upset, and I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me. But I just can't live at home anymore.

Mama, Papa, you've both always taught us follow our dreams. You've said nothing is impossible if you want it enough. Well, my dream is to be a poet. Papa, I know you think writing poetry is silly and weak, but it's what I love and I want to do it more than anything. I just can't live in a house where I'm not allowed to read and write poetry – I'll be unhappy forever. So I'm leaving home to follow my dream. I'm going to stay with someone who understands..."

Before she could continue, Gaston interrupted. "Poetry! That's the clue!" he said excitedly. Determined to find Georges, he had listened to the letter with the mindset of a hunter – ignoring the emotional content for now, intent only on finding important clues to pick up the trail. Now he jumped up triumphantly. "That's it! He says he's going to stay with someone who understands poetry!" He looked at Belle. "Who in this village understands poetry? Besides you?"

They both thought a moment, then came to the same conclusion at once. "The bookseller!" they cried simultaneously.

"And he's the one who brought us the note from Georges in the first place!" Gaston realized. "You think he'd have said something to us instead of letting us worry!"

"Georges probably made him promise not to tell," Belle said, thinking aloud. "But he must have convinced Georges to write us a note...and then he brought it to us, assuming we'd figure out immediately that Georges was staying with him. That way he could let us know, without betraying Georges' trust by actually TELLING us."

Gaston nodded. It all fit together perfectly. "All right. Let's go."

Maurice looked at them anxiously. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Could you go to the house and stay with the other children for a little while?" Belle asked. "Tell them what happened – they're probably wondering why we've been gone so long."

Maurice nodded. "Of course!"

They rushed to the bookseller. Gaston pounded on the door. "It's Gaston Avenant! Open up!" As glad as he was to finally find his son, he was also annoyed with the bookseller for encouraging this silliness. He'd never really liked Monsieur Liseur, despite Belle's fondness for the man and his endless supply of books, ever since the bookseller had tried to play matchmaker with Belle and his nephew Hervé so many years ago.

"Gaston, don't be rude! He was only trying to help Georges!" Belle admonished.

The door opened. "Gaston! Belle!" Monsieur Liseur looked from one to the other. "What's wrong?"

"Where's my son?" Gaston demanded. He pushed past him into the house. "GEORGES!" he yelled. "Get out here now!"

"What's going on? I don't understand," said Monsieur Liseur, looking in confusion at Belle.

Belle could see that he honestly didn't know. She had held it together through all the searching, but now, as her last hope dissolved, all the stress and fear hit her full force. It was too much. She began to cry. "Georges ran away!" she explained, sobbing. "He left a note saying he wants to be a poet and he's going to stay with someone who understands. We were SURE he meant you!"

Gaston came downstairs, having searched every room thoroughly. He was just as desperate and at his wits' end as Belle was - but in his case, fear came out as aggression. "Where is he, old man?" he demanded angrily. "Don't play games with me! Where's my son?"

"Gaston, stop it!" Belle said. "He doesn't know! It's not his fault!"

"He had the note!" Gaston insisted. "He has to know!"

Monsieur Liseur looked surprised. "The note? Do you mean the note I gave you? It was just stuck under my door when I opened the shop this morning. I had no idea..." He looked at Belle anxiously. He cared about Georges like his own grandson. "How long has he been missing?"

"Since this morning, but we didn't realize it until he didn't come home for dinner," Belle said. "And then you gave us the note...we've been searching for hours...We don't know where else to look!"

Gaston looked suspiciously at Monsieur Liseur. The old man did seem truly baffled, and worried as well. But still..."Georges' note said he's going to stay with someone who understands poetry," he pointed out. "Who else could it be but you?"

At those words, Belle suddenly felt as though a lightning bolt had gone through her. He said he's leaving home to be a poet...he's going to stay with someone who understands..."Oh, my God," she whispered.

Gaston looked over at her. Belle was staring straight ahead, her face white as a sheet. "What is it? Did you think of something?" he asked, immediately alert.

Belle sank into a chair, her legs feeling too weak to support her. "Yes. I know where he went." She looked up at Gaston. "He's gone to Paris!"

Gaston stared at her, flabbergasted. "Paris?"

Belle nodded. "He says he wants to be a poet...He's gone to see Hervé!"

"What?"

"He sent Hervé his poems," Belle explained. "He wanted his opinion. Hervé said that Georges is very talented and has a rare gift for poetry. He said when Georges is older, he should go to university to study poetry."

Gaston's expression darkened. "Hervé! I should have known!" He paced the room furiously. "When we went to Paris, I saw him talking to Georges, filling his head with all kinds of ideas...That little weasel! How dare he try to steal my son?" When he got his hands on that little pipsqueak...

"Stop it!" Belle shouted, her nerves frayed to the breaking point. "Hervé didn't tell Georges to run away! He just told him he was good at poetry! It's not Hervé's fault." She took a deep breath. "We have to find Georges," she said desperately. "We have to find him before he gets too far!"

Gaston nodded. She was right. Hervé could wait; Georges was the immediate concern. Gaston immediately took command. "We have to get our horses and go after him," he said, his mind quickly formulating a plan. "While I'm saddling them up, you tell the other children what's happening and ask your father to stay with them." He started for the door.

Belle moved to follow, but paused to speak to Monsieur Liseur. "I'm sorry about all this," she said apologetically. She gestured at the door where Gaston had already left. "He's just frightened for Georges. He gets this way when he's scared...he didn't mean it."

Monsieur Liseur nodded, although privately he thought Gaston had always had too much of a temper and Belle should stop making excuses for him. But he didn't want to add to her worries. "Just keep him away from Hervé," he said. "And please, please let me know as soon as you find Georges. I'm worried about him too."

"I will," Belle said, and left to join Gaston, praying they would find Georges before it was too late.